Exodus
by Mark Ryan
Summary: The story of the few survivors of the First Jedi Purge, and the Death of Katarr. A look at the character known as the Lord of Hunger, and an examination of right and wrong in the Mandalorian Wars.
1. Katarr

This is my story of the First Jedi Purge, a conflict of the Dark Wars, which came directly after the Sith Civil War (which followed the Jedi Civil War, a product of the Mandalorian Wars).

I changed the story up a bit. Instead of Katarr being a ruse to lure out Malak's assassins, it was the location of a convent, where the majority of the surviving Jedi hide. Then one of Star Wars most underrated villains does his thing.

-------

The war ended abruptly.

Revan – then Dark Lord, to some the Revanchist – had committed himself and whoever among the Jedi would follow him against the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders, and in a year's time turned the tide of the Mandalorian War against its namesake. Their efforts came in time to face the Outer and Mid Rim's raped form, civilian populaces torn asunder, planets aflame. It was the product of years of unobstructed campaigning – or plundering, if you would - on the part of the Neo-Crusaders.

The Republic Army hadn't been ready to face the Mandalorians, but the Jedi _had_ been.

Still, the Jedi chose not to intervene, which was what originally goaded Revan, his apprentice, and their cohorts to join the war as exiles. The council continued thusly as Revan's war effort turned dark. It wasn't long before Revan's group of fallen Jedi became a Sith order, and a counter offensive became a genocide.

Of all these things I'm sure you're aware. These are events you followed when they happened. But I think it necessary to commit a basis to the situation that followed the Mandalorian War's abrupt end. To explain, I could have said, 'our story began at Malachor V,' but that's simply fallacious. Without an understanding of Darth Revan's genocides, of his afflictions of wounds upon the force, there would be no understanding of what followed – or rather, what _fled_ – the Mass Shadow's of the grave that was Malachor.

So the war ended abruptly, when Revan's general – the name of whom escapes me – set off the weapon that is now and once was the Mass Shadow Generator, a creator of gravitic anomalies, thereby bringing about the deaths of not only the Neo-Crusaders bulk force and much of Revan's present force, but the planet itself. And yes, this was at Malachor V.

In short order following his most recent genocide, Revan's Sith Empire collapsed. Without an organized enemy, the Sith consumed themselves, as Sith often do. These particular events aren't of prudence to the story following. You see, at this point, the death of Katarr had already been set in motion. Suffice it to say, regardless, Revan was lost and the Sith without order. Malak, Revan's apprentice and then, by his cause's nature, his betrayer, took command.

So we Jedi disbanded. Coruscant's temple stood abandoned. The majority of us - padawans, knights, masters – gathered on Katarr. And with our flight ended the Jedi order as it had been known for centuries preceding.

Permit me to now relay upon you my experiences in the events that are now called the Jedi Purge.

-------

Katarr was beautiful. It was green and open and alive, the force thick and cleansing to all of the senses. Our meager fleet arrived and the despair upon us, the Jedi host, quickly dissipated.

Even the buildings – I decided as we landed and disembarked – even the buildings were of a natural appearance. They were white and of stone and wood, flowing like the cities of Alderaan, intermingling with the forestry. I felt in our time there the wound on our psyches might heal.

Let me recount our number… It was I as a knight, perhaps twenty of equal rank but varied seniority, and in the realm of fifty padawans, as well. It might have been ten masters, but we weren't present long, and the masters spent little of that time with us.

The rest of the Jedi were fleeing Coruscant in every which way, as I understand it. You surely know more there than I.

We had a convent on Katarr, this you know. The masters – grimness and solemnity abound and in abundance – secluded themselves to the council chambers. Any other rank waited and rested.

I don't think it's fully relevant, but it had taken a great strength to keep oneself from joining Revan's force, years before. Some of our number were simply afraid of fighting or too conflicted to decide, but for the rest, a confidence in morality was necessary. We all hated the Neo-Crusaders, and seeing our brothers and sisters leaving to fight without us made it harder and harder.

This internal battle, compounded with lost friends, the questions of ethics and non-interference, and the pain of loss from the Malachor V genocide, put a strain on all of us. Some of the padawans, young as they were, wept, unable to cope with the despair inflicted by the sheer feeling of wrongness, the ever present pain of the force wounds.

You recognize that pain, don't you? I think all force users do, even those that weren't born when it happened. It wanes over time, but that directionless, throbbing ache, that hole you feel in the galaxy…

I'm sorry, I'm getting sidetracked.

We were left in waiting when it happened – and I'm still not entirely sure what _it_ was. I can tell you, though, that if not for the split second decisions of Master Badab and Master Verken, not nearly as many would have survived. The whole Jedi order could have died there.

They, walking alone, separate from the council, sensed the danger coming and grabbed me and two padawans. They silenced our questions with thinly veiled panic and pulled us aboard one of the few landing craft in the hangar. We were off the planet with only seconds to spare.

Please don't regard my masters as cowardly. They knew it was the only way to protect the order, by fleeing. It was tragically unfortunate that there wasn't time to warn the others, that it didn't occur to them soon enough…

Regardless, when our ship hit high orbit above Katarr, we faced down the twenty vessel graveyard fleet that was lair to the Lord of Hunger.

-------

Silence and tension gripped the little transport as it flitted onwards, past clouds and out of the atmosphere. The silence persisted between the two in the cockpit as the massive black fleet dropping out of Hyper Space filled the viewport.

"Is that…?" Master Verken, a young male Quarren, gasped in disbelief. Master Badab, a female Zabrak of her waning years, nodded.

"Revan's fleet from Malachor," she murmured grimly, struggling to understand the sight. They had both been at Malachor, and seen these very ships be consumed whole by the grasp of gravity. The ships – warships, capitol ships, escorts – were dead, some barely void worthy, others obviously not. But they all fell into a tight blockade around the central ship as it proceeded to low anchor.

"Can we get around them?" Verken asked, astonished at the sight.

"Not if they make chase," Badab responded, voice falling as they both felt a similar feeling.

It was what had warned them down on Katarr. The aching pain of the soul, the sudden breathless agony and terror. They both knew it too well, from Malachor's death. Something terrible was aboard that ship.

"Alert the council, there might still be time," Badab ordered, hiding her panic.

As Verken made an attempt to force the communication equipment into compliance, a young Twi'lek boy by the name of Milo came upon the bridge.

"Masters Badab, what's…?" he stopped, his usually wily nature crushed by the sight of the dead fleet.

"Go back to the hold, with Vall," she ordered, whipping around to face the boy down. He retreated, terrified by the sight. Badab turned back to Verken. "Keep us out of firing range."

"We've been in this whole time," he said, confused, "they're not even trying to find a firing solution. Their guns are cold."

The final question went unspoken in the last seconds before the death of Katarr.

What was happening?

-------

Again, I'm not sure what happened next. I was in the hold below with the padawans Milo and Kira, a human girl, watching through a small window down to the planet as we all sat in silence.

Despair took us, but it was more debilitating than any pain I had ever felt before. All of a sudden, and for a time following, millions of lives cried out in pain and fear.

Perhaps it was clearer from the surface. But from where I sat, it appeared that the planet's atmosphere swirled for a moment, and then the whole area disappeared from the force. We were all blind and mewling, but I could _see _the oceans evaporate, the environment ripping itself apart, cities and forests erupting into flame and smoke, mountains crumbling to be swallowed by shifting continents.

Everything died in a blur, as the surface of beautiful Katarr reshaped itself. The devastation – the _horror_ – persisted for near an hour, until Katarr was no more than a ball of sand. Our masters saved us from certain death by mere seconds.

But still, I'm not entirely sure what had happened. Katarr was simply dead, and in our minds, so was the Jedi order.

And I don't remember the reactions of the two younglings as the horrid wound tore into us. I remember feeling empty and sick after a while, knowing everything below me had simply… died. it was all gone. It's something that pains me still.

… Were any of you at Malachor when _it_ died? Do you know the omnipresence of death on your senses? It's different to have been there, understand that… I'm surprised the masters were even able to think straight as things progressed.

It was shortly after, amidst shocked silence and pained moans that our little shuttle shook itself for a second. It registered to me distantly, as Verken and Badab stumbled into the hold, lightsabers ready, that we had been taken into the tractor beam of the capitol ship.

I took my weapon up as well.


	2. On Nihilus

"Arm yourselves," Master Badab commanded, entering the hold, her own unlit saber in hand. She neared the hatch, as of yet unopened, laid a hand on it, closing her eyes.

"Master… what'd they do?" Kira demanded, frantic. Milo's own fire had quenched, and he stood, weapon ready, eyes blank. He couldn't even serve to put forth the question himself.

"Arm yourselves!" Badab repeated, a rage upon her voice. No one argued. We all took up arms as Verken joined us. The shuttle shook once more, and we knew we were in the belly of the dead ship.

Not a noise came to us as we waited. The weight of death crushed the dark hold, and it was palpable, all around us. There is nothing like it. It wasn't alive… but it was a palpable, physical force. Death, I mean.

"Do you feel that…?" Master Verken spoke up, his voice small in the tense atmosphere. We all did, but we knew his question was more a behest for clarification, which I could not oblige. In the light of our sabers, I examined our faces. We were terrified. We had good reason.

With a sudden gasp of horror, Badab tore open the hatch with the force, and stumbled out into the wide, lit hangar. "Verken, take them and run!"

It was all she managed before it came upon us. It was a blur of black, an amorphous flash, and from it came every ounce of the horror and pain we felt. It stabbed into my mind, but I remember trying to get into a stance against it. My effort was in vain though, as Badab and Verken swept up against it. I couldn't even follow the flash of sabers, waves of red and blue and green veiling the dance as the assailant came in again and again, undeterred by any effort of driving it off.

"Run!!" Is what I think I heard Verken say as he whipped around at us, having pushed back the phantasm to the far side of the hangar. I was frozen though, seeing it for what it was.

It was a man… or something. It stood veiled with the parameters of a human male, a black cloak and hood upon him. Upon its face was a simple white mask, with two lines of red creeping up from its eyes…

But they weren't eyes; they were voids, as vast and empty as all of space. I think I could _feel _it looking at me. I could feel its hunger.

That's when I ran.

-------

To the great relief of Master Verken, Knight Vall had taken the padawans and fled into the depths of the ship. He sighed inwardly, but allowed himself not more than a second, as he sensed the sith's renewed approach.

Badab came upon it first, her blue saber sweeping down against its red blade with a grace Verken had rarely witnessed. Even under the strain of terrified panic, Badab was assuredly stoic and confident in that. Still, even she was no match for it, and she fell back, step by step, under its advance.

Verken rose a hand once again to push the thing back, but the moment the thought came to his mind, the white mask and two black holes whipped about to face him, a black gloved hand raised. Verken was flung off his feet, and next thing he knew, he was slumped against the shuttle, his head numb.

As his vision swam, he watched the sith circle Badab. It seemed to glide more than walk, though it stood upon booted feet. Its movements were fluid, like there was not so much a body than a loose presence under that cloak.

Its symmetry was perfect, but its very existence was an affront to logic. As Verken stood on shaky legs, blood running down his brow, he realized that this _thing_ should not _be_. It was a horror, an abomination of the force…

But, as he charged in, saber held high, he could not deny its strength. He couldn't even feel the force anymore. All he felt was _fear._

And this sith _was_ fear.

"Come on!" Verken spat, swinging a downward slash at the black clad monster. It side stepped, and then quickly parried Badab's swipe at its midsection. With a cry, Badab flew back at the sith's force blow. Verken jumped back as it rose again to its full stature.

"Whoever you are," Verken said, almost breathless, "whatever your allegiance or motivation, we aren't your concern. We didn't come to fight you."

It ignored this, striding closer to him. In the corner of his eye, Verken saw Badab rise, a look of horror on her.

"You can't reason with him, Verken," she pleaded, knowing she wouldn't get to them fast enough.

"I know you were a Jedi once," Verken went on, "forget our disagreements. Forget the war. Just let us pass by." Verken backed into the wall, his saber up, and hoped Badab took the chance to escape while it presented itself.

What happened next surprised them both greatly. Away went the assailant's blade, and then, almost ponderously, up came its hands to Verken's shoulders.

From across the hangar, Badab shuddered as the room grew cold suddenly, and Verken cried out once, his voice almost immediately failing under the agony of the death inflicted upon him. Badab realized right then what she needed to do.

She took the chance she was presented, and fled on Vall's heels.

-------

The three Jedi sped through the halls of the ship, all silent and empty. They didn't take a moment to stop till the presence of the sith was surely behind them. When they finally did, the silence was crushing.

"We have to go back," Kira stammered, breathless. "Master Badab and Master Verken need us." She looked to Milo for support, but he was still stricken. Vall paced to and fro, waiting for them to catch their breath, shaking his head.

"No. The masters fought so we could get away," he explained.

"So? They can't beat him alone," Kira argued. Vall just shook his head again. As Milo and Kira rested, Vall took the shortest time to admire their surroundings. The hall they stood in was completely open to the void. The black of space made up the roof and outer wall, but still, they breathed and experienced gravity. The ship was an unnatural place.

He tried to feel the masters in the force, but all of his senses were clogged by the very presence of the sith. He wondered how the sith could ever hope for some kind of stealth when its power was so overwhelming. But maybe it didn't need stealth. Maybe its very presence served to instill fear into its prey.

"Master!" Kira piped up, breaking Vall's concentration. He turned to face Badab as she approached, her steely demeanor restored.

"Master Badab," Vall said, coming to her side. He noted Verken wasn't present, but felt him fading slowly. He didn't bother asking.

"Vall, I have a task for you," she said evenly, motioning for the padawans to join them. "And for you two as well." The three gathered close, and Badab managed a motherly look for her three previous students. "I want you two to go with Vall, and find your way back to the shuttle. When I join you, we will make our escape."

Kira and Milo nodded, but Vall understood what she really meant. "Kira, Milo, go on ahead. We'll join you in a moment," Vall ordered. As they two moved off, Vall turned to his master. "You don't have to do this. He's not invincible."

"Don't bother making an argument, you know we can't fend him off," Badab said, preparing herself for the fight to come. Vall nodded. Kira had tried to make the same argument but a minute ago, and he knew that saving a master or two wasn't worth sacrificing even one padawan. Kira and Milo were effectively the future of the order.

"What is he? What does he want?" Vall asked, simply for the sake of his curiosity.

"I didn't know him as a Jedi. But the Sith call him Darth Nihilus. He was one of Revan's highest generals. I faced him once before, but he wasn't this…" Badab said, oddly nostalgic. "He rivals Revan in tactical prowess, as well as in the force and with a saber. But whatever happened to him after Malachor…"

Vall looked down the hall where she stared, and they felt the hunger turn its gaze their way. They both saw it, and they knew it saw them.

"He won't stop unless there is prey closer at hand," she said. "And once I'm gone, he won't be deterred from pursuit." Vall still stood fixated, till Badab laid a hand on his shoulder. "You won't have long."

"May the force be with you," Vall said solemnly, the words sounding hollow and ironic in the face of the monster that stared them down with the force itself.

-------

Badab stood, steadying her mind as best she could, as she sensed Nihilus' approach. She'd taken herself in a good a meditative stance she could muster, but when the stick of death so close at hand, she was shaken back to reality.

She brought herself into a stance, and waited, staring down the hall as minutes dragged on. And finally, a red glow grew in the dark, and from its light was shown the mask of Nihilus. She didn't take give it a second to move.

Badab leapt forth, a quick stab at Nihilus' midsection bating it to close on her and attack. She knew, for at least a while, her mastery of Makashi would win out over the sith's minimalistic, formless slashes. Nihilus used a lightsaber like a blunt object, because he knew he didn't _need_ it.

But as it stepped in, and Badab put forth another stab at as sharp downwards angle, Nihilus shifted its style so wildly, Badab found herself scrambling to react. Nihilus' strikes then came at carefully measure angles, giving her no targets, finding her every weak point, keeping her on the balls of her feet as she fell back again and again through the hall.

She realized, as she ducked under a slash, that he too was a master of Makashi, and that she would have no advantage here.

She span backwards as Nihilus' slash carried back downwards seamlessly. Badab then put out her hand, attempting to push him away, giving herself time to reorient herself to his style, but he too put out a hand, as she felt the full brunt of his power against hers.

Almost immediately she stumbled back, wrong footed, and Nihilus was upon her. As its free hand gripped her collar, she swung up at it, determined not to go the way Verken had, and his saber lock with hers. Even with one arm, it held her back, and she strained against it until she felt the siths knee crash into her gut.

She gasped for air as she fell back, managing to scramble free of its grip, but again it was at her, to quick to fend off. It didn't even bother to attack with its saber anymore, simply throwing punches and knees to her midsection, ducking and spinning seamlessly out of the way of her saber.

It took only seconds before she was wore down, panting and gasping for air, her breaths paining her to take. She was sure the thing had broken her ribs, and she knew the damage it had inflicted could kill her on its own, if she didn't get a chance to rest.

But she knew she wouldn't. She hadn't meant to survive this. She rose up her saber with all the strength she could muster.

Nihilus, from several meters away, seemed almost to ponder her state, silent, wordless. He rose up a hand once more, and Badab felt her whole arm go numb.

When she looked down at her hand she let out a weak moan and fell to her knees, her composure failing under the sight of the mutilation he'd inflicted on her with just a gesture with his hand. Her lightsaber had melted in ran in less than second, turning to liquid, and taking with it the majority of her flesh, nerves, and muscles in that hand.

Her mind recoiled, the shock beginning to creep into her. She tried to keep herself focused on Nihilus as it approached, but it was to no avail.

Badab fell silent and unconscious as Nihilus came upon her one last time. In that, she was saved the most agonizing experiences a force user could face, as Nihilus stripped her soul from her body.

-------

"So I ran," Jedi knight Vall went on, standing in the dead center of the council chambers, the council members listening intently from where they sat in variable thrones about him. "We skirted our way around the presence of Darth Nihilus, as its vision was tunneled on its prey. I made my way with Kira and Milo to the shuttle, and we found our ways to Dantooine."

"And of Master Badab?" asked a member of the council.

"It struck her down," Vall answered evenly. "I didn't experience their battle, but I felt it feeding off of her, draining her very essence to satiate itself. Its attention searched for the next targets, but by then, we were out of reach."

"Did he make chase?"

"No."

"Then what became of him?"

"I'm not sure," Vall said. "Still the presence exists, but… It's changed." Vall stood quietly for a moment. "What was it, before all this?" One of the masters shifted in his seat.

"He was a Jedi, just like you or Revan, or any of the others. He had a power to Revan's level, and so much more potential… But, with it came a terrible sadism, something the Order found itself unable to control. When the war began, he was quick to fall into place as Revan's general, not for the Republic, the Order, or even Revan, but out of a want to hurt things, to inflict pain." Vall shook his head, confused.

"That's not what I got from it. It was unable to experience want. It simply _did_ things. It didn't _want_ to feed, that was just something that happened. It had no motivation, guidance, or purpose. It was beyond those things.

"Perhaps whatever it faced at Malachor made it this way," explained one of the Jedi. Another spoke up to Vall's earlier comment on Nihilus' presence.

"How had he changed?" Vall took the longest moment to ponder this. He had taken much time since he left the padawans to examine his thoughts on Nihilus. He had so little information to work with, but the very experience, the memory of its visage and of the weight of the area around it…

"Nihilus was not a person, when I came upon it. It was the very embodiment of the force, a walking construct, no longer alive. It just _was_," Vall said, trying in vain to convey the horror that was the Lord of Hunger.

"It was a wound upon the force… It was the compounded pain and agony of the death of Malachor V. Every lost soul, every little pain in the Universe was brought together in this thing… It was a horrid abomination of the force, something existing outside of the parameters of logic," Vall went on, ranting by then, unable to find the words. Finally, another master cut in.

"Do you still feel him? You described these wounds as 'omnipresent.' Is he?" This made Vall think. He looked up to the high ceiling of the council chambers, recently renewed after the end of the Jedi Civil War, the brief period of sporadic fighting that followed Malak's ascendancy as Dark Lord. Through the force, he could feel out between the warmth of stars, little orbs spinning slowly in an endless ballad, on and on…

He could feel the blank spot, the ache that was Malachor… and he searched, in those seconds, for what he knew was Nihilus.

"In a way," he said slowly, still staring up. "The Lord of Hunger, as it was known, is gone. It no longer is what it once was. His presence, though, is indomitable, a permanent thing," he paused again, far away. "I figure it's been around much longer than us, and will be here long after we've departed."

There was a ponderous silence among the masters, as Vall's words set in. They had to question his rationality then. It seemed he was incapable of even fathoming what Nihilus was without rhetoric, and that was a disservice to the report.

"You see, Nihilus isn't just a man or a sith – it moved far beyond both of those things – it is something more elemental, much simpler, and much more powerful.

"It is death, the tendency for the Universe to consume itself. It was and still is a natural force of self-destruction: it devours life and produces nothing from it. It is the end of matter and sentience, of all organisms. And, I think, when the Universe calls on it again, it won't go as easy as it went this time."


	3. On Revan

It was much later, when Vall sat alone, that Kira came to him. He nodded and greeting and she sat at his side, in the gardens of the temple. It was beautiful, and the life was a warm thing, but Kira and Vall felt deadened to everything. The deaths of their masters, and the chase Nihilus has given to them, had taken something from them. Milo hadn't spoken a word to either of them since Katarr died.

Kira had, since then, grown up a bit. She was going to be a good Jedi, Vall figured.

"Was Revan right?" she asked, looking up at him. Vall was taken aback at the depth of the question. He himself had wondered as much, even though the Jedi council had given its own answer. But most people, Vall and obviously Kira included, needed more.

"As a Jedi, he wasn't. The council had made the decision to appraise the threat the Mandalorians presented. It is true that the Jedi way involves much forethought. If they had stumbled blindly into a war with the Neo-Crusaders before they had their facts straight, then they would not be only defying logic, but their own principles," Vall put forth after some thought.

"But that wasn't the case with Revan?" Vall shrugged.

"It's a point of debate. When he joined the war, he and his followers were not so much Jedi as a war band to bolster the Republic forces with the powers of a Jedi, so really he was serving as a soldier."

"How did that change anything?"

"Well, Jedi have a responsibility to the future, and the balance of the force. A soldier has responsibility to his fellow soldier and his people," Vall clarified. Kira seemed unconvinced.

"That just sounds like semantics," she said. Vall laughed, agreeing. He'd heard the argument that Jedi aren't soldiers, but really that didn't get to the core of the issue.

"Fair enough. Yes, Revan was right to do what he did, in the beginning. Even as a Jedi, he had a duty to protect peoples unprotected," he paused, making sure Kira understood. "How old were you when the war truly began?" Kira shrugged.

"I was born about a year before the Mandalorian Invasion on Taris," she said. "I grew up with the fighting, and I was too young to really understand any of it. I do remember that Revan and Malak were like heroes to me, but as they won more and more fights, it seemed like the council was trying to make them out as villains."

"It was a turbulent time to grow up in, huh? Especially while training as a Jedi," Vall commented, remembering back then, when the only fears abound were the advances of the Neo-Crusaders from their empire in the Unknown Reaches. "Anyways, I guess, in a way, it was Revan's youth the council feared. To him, full of ideals as he was, the war wasn't about the Jedi, it was about the people who were dying, and for this they feared he could fall astray from their ideals."

"How is that fair, though? That didn't make him a bad guy, or evil, or anything. He still did great out there, and they made such a big deal over it just because he didn't agree with their 'wait and see,' approach?"

Once more Vall smiled, though Kira seemed to take offense. She was all riled up. It brought back memories off before the Jedi Civil War, when Revan was a hero. So many young knights and heroes made this argument, and the masters just couldn't sway them. Well, everyone had learned better.

"Just look at what happened. Revan started as the 'Jedi Crusader,' but after so many months of warring, he became as despicable as the Mandalorians. He was cold, calculating, uncaring for the civilian populaces. All that mattered to him anymore was victory, so much so that his values deteriorated," Vall explained. Kira huffed in frustration.

"But how was that his fault? He was only a knight. If the council had backed him, and guided him better, then, what then?"

"Who knows? That didn't happen."

"Well, then the masters must know that this all wasn't the Revanchist's fault. Don't they put any blame on themselves?" she said, angry now. Vall took note of her temper, and reminded himself she was still a padawan, much in need of guidance.

"It's not a matter of laying blame on one another. That won't get us anywhere."

"But if no one's to blame, they how do we prevent this kind of thing from happening in the future? Can't the council see that 'non-interference' always means things will get out of their hands before they even get involved?" Kira argued, livid.

Again, Vall was forced to think. "I think the problem isn't that they lay no blame, Kira, but that they put so much blame on themselves, so when another conflict rears its head, they're too afraid of repeating old mistakes. If they take a single wrong step, then they might the galaxy into yet another terrible war."

After this, Kira just fell silent, a disagreeing, angry look on her face. Vall recognized it from so many of the knights and padawans but a decade ago, when Revan began recruiting for followers. She was young and rebellious, full of ideas she thought no one understood or had ever thought before. All she could see of her masters was old creatures propped atop pedestals, too far from the world to make choices. And worse than make the wrong one, they simply made none.

Vall knew her pain. So many of her friends were probably dead, and her Order was not what it once was. They were coming out of a war where the only people left to blame were the Jedi. It was how it had been after the Great Sith War.

She felt bitter, and she wanted to do something, and they Jedi couldn't. Vall felt for her, and knew her future would be difficult, as it fell on her and her few peers to rebuild an Order they weren't sure they believed in anymore.

"Why didn't you join him?" she asked. Caught off guard once more, Vall sat back, admiring the blue sky above.

"I ask myself that every so often. I never get an answer."

"So do you regret it?" Vall had to consider his answer carefully.

"Revan was a peer of mine. We weren't great friends, but still I strived to be with him, to campaign for his cause alongside several others. I didn't leave to fight with him, but I had always planned too. My plans ended the moment the Jedi forsook Revan, because I serve the Order, and not my own ideals.

"Early on, yes, I regretted not joining him, because I saw their exploits and wished everyday I had joined them from the start. But later, I saw the Jedi were right. Revan was young and corrupted himself easily. I wonder now if he even _had_ ideals."

Kira sat quiet for a while, calmed down. She seemed disappointed with the whole situation, the story and its moral. After a while of silent contemplation, she stood.

"What am I supposed to do, now?" she asked.

"Take up where you left off. We survived the Civil War, and now we rebuild what was lost."

"Yeah, but," she began, melancholic, "how do I just pick up from the beginning? How am I supposed to pretend everything just goes back to normal now?" Vall shrugged. He knew what she meant. She'd seen such horrors in her few years; genocides, the deaths of planets, walking embodiments of death and abominations of the force. All of her peers and friends were gone, and her masters had been killed by something that should not have ever been. The Jedi Civil War had been a short few years of terror.

But then, so had the Great Sith War, in Vall's youth. He told her what Revan had told him when he'd asked similar questions, decades ago. "Stay confident, and keep your directions clear - don't discount the past, but don't let it become the future. Stay cautious of repeating old mistakes, but don't let yourself go the way of those behind us. Carry the dead with you, and when things go back to how they were before, bury them."

Kira considered this in silence once more.

"Thanks," she finally said, quietly. And with that, she left.

Alone, former Jedi Knight Vall closed his eyes and let the force flow through him. The weight he carried was not going to subside, he knew. If he'd been with Revan, he might've been able to change some things, make the future a brighter thing than what he'd experienced.

Everywhere he went, all he could feel from the force was sorrow, death, emptiness… Nihilus, the soulless creation of Revan's genocides, had shown him, finally, what his generation had accomplished. What monsters they'd made of themselves.

As he stood to leave the Jedi Temple for the last time, he hoped Kira took his and Revan's advice to heart. He hoped the Jedi would never let this happen again.


End file.
